tequila
by Cath1
Summary: You still remember the first first time. Vividly. Post S4 MerDer.


Title: tequila

Author: Cath

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine

Summary: You still remember the first first time. Vividly. Post S4 MerDer.

Notes: First Grey's Anatomy fic. Have ideas for another, much longer, but we'll see how this goes first :)

XxX

This is your third first time with him.

You still remember the first first time. Vividly.

You remember it now with a smile. A smile that refuses to stop from spreading across your face into a wide grin.

He pushes your hair away from your face as you lie against him, naked. "What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"Tequila," you reply and give a brief laugh.

"Tequila is what has you smiling after one of the best nights of sex you've ever experienced?" he responds, vaguely amused but also slightly confused.

"One of the best nights of sex ever?" you curve one eyebrow up, attempting to look at him with a questioning glance, but frankly the evident satisfaction across your features betrays you.

"Given your very" he pauses to kiss your neck "vocal" another kiss "appreciation earlier" the kisses move downwards, continuing to punctuate his words "I'd say so. But in case you need a reminder…" he trails off and you're no longer so interested in words.

And then, you forget what you were thinking about at all.

XxX

You'd had one night stands before. Back in college and then med school you'd not been very interested in relationships. You'd had neither the time nor the inclination, and meeting guys in bars, at dorm parties, wherever, suited you just fine.

This was, initially, no different. Sure, he was probably more attractive than usual, older maybe. But those were mere details.

Tequila; Jose Cuervo, your one constant companion from the days before – and you're very thankful for the existence of Jose – was your decision-maker. Jose said, hell yeah, go ahead. So you've got your first day of work tomorrow and probably should get a good nights' sleep, but you only live once, so why the hell not? Jose was more insistent as you drank more. And then you gave in.

You invited this guy back to yours without caring for details such as name, occupation, marital status. In the cab on the way home, there was some small talk; he amused you, made you laugh – at him sometimes – but there was no awkwardness. You moved your hand so that it rested on his leg, slowly moving upwards so that there was no question about your intentions, and he smiled at you.

You'd had one night stands before, but not like this. This wasn't just a guy using your body for his own sexual release. When he looked at you before pushing you back against the wall, you could see nothing but desire for you in his eyes. And you vaguely wondered what the hell was going on.

And then he kissed you and thoughts were irrelevant.

The sex was… well, pretty damn good. You didn't make it anywhere near a bed. And that's not because you were too drunk to find one. Too desperate; that would be more of an accurate description.

That, too, was unusual. Even with the encouragement of Jose.

What was most unusual was the morning after: his obvious gazing and lack of desperate desire to get the hell out of there, your self-conscious delivery of your usual line. And then, for days, weeks after, your inability to get it and him out of your head.

XxX

You lie, satiated and breathless, beside him.

"Still thinking about tequila?" he asks with a smug grin.

You don't know what triggered your earlier thoughts, but they still linger. "A little," you tease. "Jose's been a good friend to me."

"And what does Jose have that I don't?" he smiles. He rolls over onto one side, propping his head up with an arm.

You pretend to think when in reality, there's little that tequila can offer that Derek can't – not even the ability to get lightheaded, to make you forget everything else.

"You should be more supportive of my friendship with Jose. He's the one who encouraged me to take you home when we first met," you tell him, trailing one finger down his arm.

"Ah yes," he replies, clearly unable to think quickly in his current post-coital state.

"But I don't need him anymore," you inform him.

"You don't?"

"No." There's a moment of seriousness, and gazing, before you break the moment. "Now I have Cristina. She's a little less likely to encourage me to take guys home, but a whole lot less likely to cause a headache in the morning. Mostly."

He rolls his eyes at you and you just smile sweetly in response.

You've missed this – god, how you've missed this. And as you continue to banter with him, shifting yourself to rest against him, you're resolute that you refuse to screw this up this time.

This is your third first time with him. And you're determined that it's your final first time for the rest of your life.

XxX


End file.
